Warren Castellano received the Geneva files a little after midnight.
He was at his desk with a cold cup of coffee, two open notebooks, and an article draft he had been avoiding for half an hour. Michael Erickson's scandal had taken over every newsroom he knew. Editors wanted speed. Lawyers wanted caution. Sources wanted protection. Everyone else wanted to know which name would fall next.
Warren had stayed away from publishing too quickly.
That was partly discipline.
The other part was shame.
Michael's name had brought back old memories he did not like touching. Few months ago, Warren had followed a trail through Montreal and Geneva and helped expose Graham Whitfield. Later, Isobel Marchetti and Leonard Tanaka had fallen too. At the time, Warren had believed he was pulling rot into the open.
He still believed some of that.
What he no longer trusted was the hand that first pointed him toward the smell.
The secure notification arrived without a subject line.
